1.

I

want

to put

pebbles in

my pockets and go

for a swim in that deep river.

The sun casting shadows through the trees extremities –

those crooked arms and hands wet, yet still dry – twirling my hair – I sink into forever.

and then come the dreams -so effortless and fluvial! My flesh floats away with my tongue and my eyes – my heart and my soul dance in the current –

forever singing songs for the lives that mourn upon the banks – meditating on the elixir of that which keeps them walking on dry land.

I want them to taste my love in their parched throats – fill their veins with revived hopes and courage –

Fighting for the river and fighting for the trees –

I quench them with revolution.

Flow through desire.

We sing songs

pebbles

and

peace.

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1.

1.

He

Says

There is

Always hope.

But he doesn’t see

The contradictions in his eyes.

There has to be a way to break this grim paradox

and release the minds of those enslaved to the world we have created for enslavement.

Nature is screaming desperation floods upon the concrete slabs that have stolen the surface of her skin for unconsented pleasured waste.

Destruction in its masculine frame walks her surface and forgets to hide its crooked smile while it plants the seeds for the poisoned apple trees.

I look to him as though he has some magic key and he wants me to unlock the door

Because he carries the truth like a wheeled wooden board –

the paradox in his two hands

And nature told me

to listen

to his

pure

voice.

 

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0.

these

dark

whispers

direct this

shadowed emptiness.

Sleeping revolutionary-

nature dips her fingertips into this fragile heart

awakened by cries of something dying beyond realms of corporeal reality

the mind struggles to find the truth rewritten by a thousand lost souls in a world that seems to be destined for its own bitter destruction

within the walls of knowledge lies those secrets that were never hidden – wrapped in so much back and forth that children forgot the names of their mother’s mothers and of their father’s countless victims passing onto another

generation of coffins that have been built and stored in warehouses– but there is no longer space in the ground to bury tomorrow’s dead

the sun does not shine in this new abstract reality where we found our safe escape

it drinks our honeyed souls and we lost our will to see

trees only grow outside in nature

we live lost within

unfreedom

is there

still

hope?

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